"Ranulf! What are you doing here in Rouen? How is my godson?" The knight held out his hand in a warm greeting.
Ranulf arose, taking the offered hand. "I thought perhaps it was time I came to pay my proper respects to Duke Henry. My lady thought it wise also, and Simon thrives."
"Stephen?"
"Failing, but still alive," Ranulf replied. Then he smiled. "If you can convince Master Conan that we are respectable, he will give us shelter here in his stables, Garrick. Can you do so?"
"Aye! I will gladly. The castle is full to overflowing as the duchess has arrived with all her court to visit her mother-in-law. Come, and I'll take you and your young squire to the great hall. It is time for the evening meal. 'Tis not as substantial as the midday meal, for the empress keeps her household on short rations, but it will be filling." Garrick Taliferro chuckled. Then he turned to the stable-master and said, "The duke would be grateful if you would give this man and his squire and their animals proper shelter, Master Conan."
" 'Tis done, my lord," the stablemaster answered. "Come, my lord, and I'll show you where you'll sleep. Bring your beasts with you, if you please." He moved into the stable, and they followed him deep into the bowels of the building. At its far end he stopped, and pointed to a group of empty stalls filled with fresh straw. "You can stable your animals there, my lord. You and your squire can sleep in one of the stalls, too. 'Tis out of the way, and no one is likely to notice you there. I will ask you to have your squire care for your horses and the mule himself. That way no one will come back into this section of the stables, and your armor will be safe," he said with a wink.
"Thank you, Master Conan," Ranulf said, pressing a small silver coin into the man’s hand. "I am grateful."
The stablemaster nodded, and moved off.
"I've had enough to eat, my lord," Pax said. "I'll remain here, unsaddle the horses, and see to their care. You go along."
"You're certain?"
"Aye, my lord!"
Ranulf walked with Sir Garrick to the great hall of Rouen Cas-de, where the evening meal was just beginning. They found places at one of the trestles directly below the salt. Flat trenchers were placed on the table, one to every two guests. Sir Garrick cut the trencher with his knife, and passed Ranulf a half. The pewter cups were filled with a passable wine. There was a small wheel of cheese on the table. A platter was passed that held what appeared to be joints of roasted rabbit. Spearing one with his knife, Ranulf laid it on his trencher and cut himself a generous wedge of cheese. The priest at the high board stood and said the blessing, then they began to eat.
When he had filled his stomach, Ranulf looked about him. The hall was huge and well filled, mostly with knights and their retainers, although, near the high board there was a trestle lined with lovely women. At the high board sat Duke Henry, his mother, Empress Matilda on his right, his wife, Alienor of Aquitaine on his left. Ranulf had once seen the Empress Matilda. While she had grown older, she had not changed a great deal. Her expression was still one of arrogance and disdain. She had never forgotten her royal heritage. She was the daughter of King Henry I and his queen, who had been the daughter of Scotland’s King Malcolm. The Empress Matilda’s mother had been a descendant of the last Saxon kings of England. Her blood was bluer than most.
The young duchess, however, was probably the most beautiful woman Ranulf had ever seen. His own Eleanore was a great beauty, but Alienor of Aquitaine’s beauty was incredible. She had truly golden hair, and even from where he was sitting Ranulf could tell her eyes were a bright and vibrant blue. Her features were perfect: flawless skin, a straight nose, and a generous mouth that he saw laughed easily.
"Don't fall in love with her," Garrick Taliferro said softly. "Most men do. She enjoys the attention, but she is loyal to her husband."
"As she should be," Ranulf replied, a trifle shocked that his companion should even say such a thing.
"You have not heard the gossip then about her troubadours?"
"Nay. What is said?" Ranulf was frankly curious.
"The duchess’s court is the gayest and brightest in all of the world," Garrick Taliferro began. "She loves music, literature, and poetry, and those who make it. Her court is called the Court of Love. It is the troubadours' habit to choose a noble lady, married, of course, for she must truly be unobtainable, fall in love with her, and then write exquisite poetry and song about his unrequited love for the lady of his choice."
"And what does the unobtainable lady do when she is singled out like this?" Ranulf asked, amused by such affectation.
"She alternately encourages her troubadour, then disdains him on other occasions."
"How futile," Ranulf said, "and perhaps a bit ridiculous to my mind. Besides, what right have these gypsies to choose a chaste woman and make her an object of their unrequited desires?"
Garrick Taliferro laughed heartily. "You are too practical, my friend," he said. "The ladies love it, and it does their husbands honor that these great troubadours chose their wives to court. There is no evil intended, although in the case of the duchess, there are some who want to believe these young men are her lovers. It is not so, of course. The duchess is far too clever, and too honorable a lady to indulge herself with troubadours. She adores her duke."
"I would not allow such men about my Eleanore," Ranulf responded darkly "Such creatures have no place at a humble manor like Ashlin." Then he changed the subject entirely. "When do you think I can pay my compliments to Duke Henry, Garrick? I do not like leaving my wife and child for too long. The Welsh are raiding this year along the border. I have raised my walls higher, and I have a good captain who has trained more men in the arts of defense, but still, I dislike leaving them for too long."
"I will speak with the duke when I have the opportunity," his companion said. "In the meantime I hope you will join me and the other knights in the hunt, and on the jousting field."
"I have my armor with me," Ranulf said. "While I hoped my journey would be a brief one, I have spent enough time in a king’s court to know it would probably not be. They say Stephen will not last a good deal longer, so I suppose I can expect to be home sometime before Christmastide. I can only pray the Welsh will keep from my gates."
"You may lose livestock, but little else," Garrick Taliferro said smoothly. "Tell me of my godson."
"He is clever," Ranulf said. "I vow he recognizes my voice when I enter the solar, but my good wife says he is too young yet."
"I suppose I should marry one of these days," Sir Garrick said. "I have a small holding to the west of London. My mother lives upon it, and she is forever importuning me to take a wife. Perhaps when Duke Henry becomes England’s king, I shall ask her to find me a nubile young lass to wed, bed, and give me heirs. A man needs sons. The king has one, and it is said the duchess is breeding once again."
"Another reason I am anxious to return home." Ranulf smiled. "Both Eleanore and I want more children, but I cannot get them on her if I am in Normandy, and she is at Ashlin."
The evening was a pleasant one. There were jugglers to entertain the guests in the hall, and the duchess’s favorite troubadour of the moment, a slender young man with dark curly locks and melting amber eyes, sang a beautiful song of his unrequited love for the fairest flower in Aquitaine. Ranulf had to admit the music was sweet even if he thought the song insipid. The men at his table began to dice, and, not having the coin to waste, he excused himself.